Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

Evelyne didn’t notice the boy, she hadn’t heard his step, and he scared her. He was staring up at her from the grass below, head to one side, and he didn’t look away when she looked down. He kept his eyes on her face. Black, cold eyes … then he smiled, and she remembered him, it was the gypsy boy from the field.

Freedom moved up to the balcony steps, stealthily like a cat, his back to the white stone. His hair gleamed black as his eyes, and they never left her face. His gaze, was magnetic, she could feel him, closer, closer, and his eyes were drawing her to him. He stopped two steps below her, and then he whispered, ‘One two three, one two three …’

For a moment Evelyne didn’t know what he meant, then he rocked his body as if dancing, and she knew he must have watched her practising on the lawn. He climbed higher and there was now only one step between them. He lifted his hand towards her, his eyes still staring intendy into hers. ‘Read your palm …’

Evelyne leaned forward slightly, her hand towards him, palm up. He lowered his head, keeping his eyes raised to hers, and kissed the centre of her palm. She curled her fingers and tried to draw her hand away, but he caught it and held it tight.

A woman seemed to spring from the darkness. Her head was swathed in a shawl, partially hiding her face, and she wore a long, dark skirt and heavy gold necklace. Her voice was soft, but sharp.

‘Freedom … Freedom …’

He turned to the woman, gave her a hard look, almost vicious. Releasing Evelyne’s arm, he glanced at her briefly, then turned and moved lightly down the steps, following the woman into the darkness of the bushes. But before he was out of earshot he heard a voice call.

‘Evelyne!’

David stood at the balcony doors, his face set with anger. He had seen the incident. He moved to Evelyne’s side and gripped her elbow tightly.

‘I’ve been searching for you everywhere. Come inside, we’re leaving.’

Lady Sybil joined them as they entered the ballroom. Patting David’s arm she asked if they had both enjoyed themselves, surely they were not going to leave before the last waltz.

‘I insist that you stay for just a little while longer, dear boy, your charge will just adore the fortune-tellers … come along and sit with me … Heather, dear, see if you can get the waiters to bring us coffee.’

David gave Evelyne a curt nod, and she went to join the girls waiting in line by the gypsy woman’s table.

David could see Lady Primrose and her party leaving. She didn’t even turn to look at him, hadn’t even said goodbye.

The gypsy musicians were packing their fiddles into their old, worn cases. They had done their allotted time and wanted to leave. They still smiled and their manners were perfect, but they were like trained animals on display. The older of the two gypsy women looked at one of the fiddlers, and he gave a tiny sign with his hand to tell her their time was up. Two of the girls moaned that they had been waiting for ages, surely they wouldn’t disappoint them now. Paying not the slightest attention, the women packed up their cards, slipping them into their worn packets, and, folding their shawls around them, they started to leave. The younger woman brushed past Evelyne, then stopped and turned back. Her skin was dark and tawny, her eyes the same as the young boy’s, the boy called Freedom. She stared into Evelyne’s face, touched her hair. Her hands were rough, the fingernails cut short and straight across. With a quick look at her menfolk she wavered, seemed nervous. The men waited impatiently, but she remained at Evelyne’s side. One of the disappointed girls pushed forward, her hand held out, but the woman ignored it, brushed it from her as she would a buzzing fly. She. pulled Evelyne’s hand, unfurled the fingers and stared into the palm, the same palm the gypsy boy had kissed. The gnarled finger traced along the thin lines, and she could feel the roughness of this ‘lady’s‘ hand. She looked up into frightened eyes, eyes the colour of the cold northern seas, and for a moment she hesitated, about to speak. Then she turned and joined her menfolk.

The ballroom was virtually empty now, the servants were clearing the debris, collecting the glasses. The sweet-faced powder-room attendant slipped the black mourning cloak around Evelyne’s shoulders.

‘This’ll be a night you won’t forget, child. God bless you.’

Mrs Darwin heard the front door open into the darkened hallway. She wondered if Minnie had stayed awake to see to the couple. The stairs creaked and she lay back. They must be going straight to their rooms.

David walked ahead of Evelyne up the stairs, then put his finger to his lips and pointed down, creeping on tiptoe and gesturing for her to follow him into the dark drawing room. She tiptoed after him, and they bumped in the doorway. After shutting the door David lit the gas lamp with a taper from the still-glowing fire. His face twisted into a snide smile.

‘Well, my little Flame, didn’t you do well? Polka with Lloyd George, kissed by the riff-raff gypsy boy, and we never had one dance together …’

He opened the drinks cabinet, careful not to make a noise, and took out a bottle of brandy and a glass. Evelyne’s heart thudded, this was the moment she had dreamed of, alone with David, did he know she loved him, was he going to learn?

He poured a measure of brandy with care and sipped it, rolling it around his mouth, then looked at her over the rim of his glass, ‘You made a great impression on a friend of mine, Captain Ridgely.’ He didn’t even offer her a drink. ‘Yes, he was really taken with you. Comes from a good family, lots of loot … well, to cut a long story short, he wants to see you.’

Evelyne was puzzled. She asked who Ridgely was as she couldn’t recall meeting him.

‘I doubt if you will be going home tomorrow, so I said perhaps you could meet him at tea time, it’ll be up to you what you want to arrange with him.’

‘I don’t understand, what arrangements?’

David sighed. God, he thought, she really is stupid.

‘He likes you, I don’t want to get involved, it will be entirely up to you whether you go to meet him or not. I think you’d be throwing away a good opportunity, he’s very rich, could set you up in a little place of your own … and he’s not a bad chap, you should be flattered, girl like you won’t get many opportunities, especially if you have to stay in the valley all your life.’

Evelyne still stared, dumbfounded.

‘Good God, do I have to spell it out, you could earn money, he’d keep you if you pleased him enough …’

Evelyne’s hand swung out and slapped David hard across the face.

‘Christ, what did you do that for?’

Evelyne was hurt and shaking with anger. He was suggesting she sell herself, and to one of his friends.

‘Now, come along, I didn’t mean any harm, no need to get yourself all upset, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, all I said was I would ask you.’

Still Evelyne was speechless, staring at him, shocked, wide-eyed.

‘You stupid little girl, this was an opportunity for you, I’m sorry I even bothered with you.’ He walked out, leaving her confused and bewildered by all he had said, by his manner towards her. She could not remember the last time she had cried for herself — little Davey, Ma, that was different. She caught her breath as the sobs rose inside her. She wept for herself, for her stupidity, for the dream that had just been shattered. Her foolishness in believing, even for a moment, that she could be part of David Collins’ life filled her with shame. She ran up the stairs to her room, remembering to creep the last few steps so she would not waken Doris.

David’s bedroom door was ajar, and he was watching her as she tiptoed along the landing. Evelyne turned, caught him staring, and he gave her a strange, apologetic smile, then closed his door. The smile made it all the worse, his handsome, perfect face so far from her reach. All she wanted was to go home, home to her own people, her own class.